Wow... all I can say is wow. And no, I'm not playing World of Warcraft. I did yesterday, but that's beside point. No, what I'm in shock and awe over is how incredibly out of practice I am at this whole writing thing. I mean, finding your own voice and translating that to paper (or computer for you new age techno-hippies) is super tough. I keep asking myself why it was so much easier in high school and college. Then I remember, I was an angsty, emo teenager and that always flows well onto the page.
On the other hand, what's happened to my creativity? Has it shriveled up and died like the plant rotting in the corner of my apartment from total neglect? Did I get so consumed with doing what was necessary or what was expected that I lost a piece of myself in the corporate mire that was Bank of America? I mean, what the hell dude!? I've been sick (again, ugh) this last week and kept staring at the few paragraphs I managed to get down on a Word document and now... nothing. I'm not sure how I really feel about what's already written and I have no idea what to write next. It sucks too, cause I can see the sequence of events I want to convey so clearly in my head, but when I go to describe them I'm suddenly aware of the gaps in my perfect image and I'm so confused about which pieces of what I'm seeing should be described and in what detail and... ACK!
It probably doesn't help that I've been reading the posts on http://www.runningnekkid.com/. Celeste manages to make the act or writing (or at least the finished product) seem so effortless. I know she struggles too, but just look at what she's managed to accomplish and how beautifully written and precise her posts are. Not to mention there is a clear voice there. Her voice. Every time I read something she's written I can hear her speaking as clearly as if we were laughing and poking fun at my fat. (not literally poking though, I don't like to be poked by anything... haha! Gay joke!)
So what is it? I'm dying to know what it is that's keeping me from finishing even a full page of my story and it's been weighing on me pretty heavily this last week. I've settled on a couple explanations. One of which is obvious and was mentioned earlier: I simply haven't exercised my creative muscle in such a long time that's gonna take time and a good amount of effort to get going again. Hence, this post. Because if I can't bitch about not being creative in a somewhat creative way on my own blog then all hope is lost. The other explanation is a little harder to admit... fear. Celeste put a voice to this for me when I was present for the posting of one of the entries on her website. I called her psycho and crazy of course for espousing a fear about the reception of her thoughts, but she does have a point. What if they don't like it? Even worse, what if I send something out and fail? *gasp* That's a big one. My life up to this point has been riddled with examples of me opting for safer choices because of a fear of failure. And it was drilled into me by my parents that I always need to make the right choices, have the right answers, and if things seem too risky or if you want do something seemingly stupid (from my parent's perspective of course) then you just don't do it.
But I don't want to succumb to fear. I've got the whole pioneering spirit thing going on since I quit my job without having another one lined up. So I'm gonna do this dammit! And I prescribe the following to myself: 1. Get out of the house and go for a walk every time I get stuck to clear my head, 2. Don't only write at the house but venture to other locations, 3. Mix photography, music, and writing... not sure how yet, but I'm working on it, and 4. Stop telling myself I'm not creative or I'm broken. After all, if I wasn't creative I wouldn't have come up with a story to write in the first place. I just need to expand my vocabulary somewhat and exercise that creative muscle.
I should also probably exercise my real muscles, but that's a whole other battle and I'm already busy. :)
Yes, you lost a piece of yourself at the Bank. When I first picked up writing again after leaving, it was painful and slow and I felt like a fool for even trying. Well, I may still feel like a fool at times but it's not nearly as painful anymore. It's still hard work; harder even than the work I did as an Accountant or the work I do as a mother or the work I did to help finish rewiring our house. Heh.
ReplyDeleteYou'll get it back. You'll get everything back and then some. I'm sure your far more interesting now than you were when you were writing before, so your work will have a lot more depth and promise.
Also, dude, my stomach fricking HURTS. I hate being sick.